


A Learned Man of Letters

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy promises to write. And actually does so. Slight AU of Season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Learned Man of Letters

22nd December, 1924

Dear ~~Mr. Barrow~~ Thomas,

I am sorry it has taken me so long to write. I said I was rubbish at letters, but in the spirit of the season I thought I would give it a try, although I’m afraid I haven’t much interesting to say. I left service some months ago and have a job in a shop selling shoes. There is a lot to learn, but the boss, Mr. Thompson, says I am a quick study and should go far. I can’t imagine old Mr. Carson saying the same about me, can you? Ha ha. I hope all is well at Downton.

Best wishes to all and Happy Christmas,

Jimmy

16th January, 1925

Dear Thomas,

Thank you for your letter and for the little photograph ~~what~~ which you sent. I can’t believe you were all forced to stand there like statues for a “family picture.” First time they’ve ever considered our lot “family”. It’s nice to have a souvenir of you all, though. Most of you anyway. Mr. Bates looks like he swallowed a lemon. And Mrs. Bates looks like she swallowed a tree trunk. I’m surprised old man Grantham lets her work in that condition, but I guess she won’t be working long.

Speaking of, I am still in the shoe trade, although there was a close call. Just before New Year’s, a lady came into the shop looking for a pair of fancy shoes for a party. I brought her everything we have, but nothing fit her. I tell you, this woman had feet like an elephant. Finally, I said, “Madam, perhaps you would like to see something from our gentleman’s collection?” I wasn’t being impertinent, but she didn’t half kick off. She wanted Mr. Thompson to fire me on the spot, but I got away with a bit of a finger wagging. I’m starting to think that maybe shopkeeping isn’t for me after all.

All the best,

Jimmy

12th March, 1925

Dear Thomas,

Lady Edith has a bastard child!!!! I am shocked!!!! I could believe it of Lady Rose, but never L. Edith! She pulled the wool over their eyes all right. I wish I had been there to see it when the news came out. You have to give me more details. I know you wanted me to know quickly, but your letter was very scant on information. What was Carson’s face like? I wish I had been there to see. Will the child be permitted at Downton?

Still selling shoes. I went out for a smoke on my dinner break this afternoon. It was a nice day for once and reminded me a bit of when you and I used to sneak off for a fag before setting the table upstairs. Remember those stupid rulers? There’s one in the shop but the only thing I use it for is walloping mice in the stockroom. Trying to, anyway. I’ve not got one yet.

Write to me soon!

Jimmy.

29th April, 1925

Dear Thomas,

I’m sorry I did not reply earlier, especially since you were so kind as to send me all the details of Lady Edith so quickly. I suppose it is right that she and the child be permitted to be together. I never thought any good came of taking a child away from its mother, and it’s hardly the little blighter’s fault it’s a bastard. I’m glad some happiness came of it.

Truth is, I have been in a bit of a state. I lost my job with Mr. Thompson. It’s a very long story, but suffice to say Mr. Thompson has a very pretty daughter, Margaret, who is just as insistent in her affections as Lady Anstruther was. Like a fool, I fell for it again. There was no fire this time, though, just Margaret’s blasted little sister. I am utterly ashamed. Not for what I did (Margaret is a right looker and no mistake there) but because I let it get me into trouble again. Even you never made the same mistake twice.

I am at my wits end. I have been gambling a bit to make some money, but even I know that’s not a long-term career prospect. Ha ha.

Best,

Jimmy

8th May, 1925

Dear Thomas,

I don’t know what to say. First I should tell you it is very kind of you to offer to speak to Lord Grantham on my behalf, but I think that ship has sailed. More important, I am ~~amazed~~ ~~shocked~~ very surprised with what you told me about the incident with the Duke of Crowborough. You are taking a very great chance committing that story to paper, as I’m sure you know. I have burned the letter to be safe. You should really be more careful. I don’t know what I would do if you get sent to prison, as I don’t know if I could afford the stamps, ha ha.

But truth be told, it did make me feel better. I may be an utter fool, but at least I am not alone. You are a real pal, Thomas. I said so before and it’s still true now. We haven’t seen each other in close to a year, but you’re still the best mate I’ve got. So I’ll tell you, as my best mate, that I’m thinking of heading to London to try my luck there. I don’t know how things will go, but I will keep you informed, as they say.

Belated congratulations to the Bateses and condolences to their baby. It’s not his fault he got stuck with Mr. Bates for a father.

Your pal,

Jimmy

27th June, 1925

Well, Thomas my pal, this letter comes to you not from Ripon but from London. Yes, I have become a Londoner. I stopped in at Lady Anstruther’s soon as I arrived. Not for “that”, of course, but I knew she would feel bad about getting me “fired” (that’s a little joke, ha ha.) She offered me a job on the spot, but I said I didn’t think it would be appropriate. You would have been proud of me, I was all “upstairs voice” and very calm. She agreed and found me a place with her husband’s friends the White-Jamesons. Lady A. might be a bit of a ninny, but she’s an all right sort, really. And Lady White-Jameson is about seventy years old with no taste for footmen. Same with her husband. (Another little joke.) So it seems like old Jimmy’s luck might be turning after all.

I suppose you’d better pass on my best wishes to Mr. Molesley and Baxter, or rather Mr. and Mrs. Molesley. ~~Although it seems a bit unfair that dead cod can marry when there are those more deserving who can’t.~~ I don’t know why I wrote that, jealousy maybe. But who knows, I might find myself a nice London girl and settle down like you wanted me to (remember?)

Hope this letter finds you well. Looking forward to hearing from you soon!

Jimmy

18th July, 1925

Dear Thomas,

It is very hot in London. Too hot. And the White-Jamesons insist on throwing so many tedious dinner parties. Write me something amusing to cheer me up. Please?

Your flaming friend,

Jimmy

1st August, 1925

Dear Thomas,

Well, it has cooled down a little bit at last. Your last letter really hit the spot, though. Where did you learn so many naughty jokes? I had to hide the letter under my mattress for fear the butler would find it and toss me out on my ear. The other footman, Bernard, asked if it was a love letter from my “sweet Yorkshire rose”!!! I can only imagine what his reaction would have been if I’d told him yes, and the rose’s name is Thomas!! Anyway, I told him to sod off. He’s a real noodle. Makes Alfred look like a professor! Speaking of, I sometimes wonder if I might run into Alfred now I’m here, but I’ve not seen him so far. I guess London is a very big place. Very interesting, though. Maybe we could meet for a drink the next time you’re down with the family?

Best wishes,

Jimmy

22nd September, 1925

Don’t be alarmed at the black bordered writing paper, it’s all I could find in this place. Lord White-Jameson is dead. Popped his clogs last night. It was his valet what found him. Thank God it wasn’t me is all I can say. I don’t know what this means for my job, but when I tried to ask, I got such a glare from the butler I’m still feeling it.

I’ll be in touch,

Jimmy

13th October, 1925

BIG NEWS THOMAS. The biggest ever, in my life. I can barely even write, I’m so excited, but as soon as I heard, I wanted to tell you. Jimmy Kent is going to Australia!

You can probably hardly believe it. I can hardly believe it myself. How it happened is, the White-Jamesons younger son lives in Melbun (?) Now that His Lordship’s dead, Lady WJ is going to rent a house near him for a while, and she’s bringing us along. Not all of us, just her lady’s maid, the butler and me. They asked Bernard if he wanted to go first, since he’d been here longer, but the idiot said he didn’t want to leave England. I can’t wait to leave England! I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. A few months, I reckon. Until Lady WJ wants to come home.

I confess, I’m a little nervous, but I reckon if Ivy can emigrate to America, then I can take a little trip to Australia. Well, it’s not a little trip. It’s a long way, on a huge boat. I’ve never done the like! You must give me all your travelling tips. I know you’re a man of the world. And you must promise to keep writing to me out there. I’m so looking forward to telling you all about the wallabies and kangaroos and what have you. We’re going very soon, I’m not sure when but in less than a month. Write to me quickly, I’m dying to know what you think about it.

Jimmy

20th October, 1925

Dear Thomas,

I have had many many many drinks, but that’s all right. You know I can hold my drink. And maybe I’ll never send you this, but whether I do or I don’t, the important thing is that it’s said. Well, written. And that is: I admire you.

You think nobody does, but I do. You are braver than me and not just because you took on those village thugs. (Seems like a whole life ago.) You are brave because are honest. Because you can look at a man and think, “He’s a handsome man” and I can’t could never do that. And even if I did do that, I could never act on it, because I am too afraid of what people might think about me. You’re not afraid of that. And that’s why I admire you. I know we’re not meant to ever speak about it but I know you still love me and sometimes I wish I could love you back because you are a good mate, so brave and I admire you more than any woman I’ve ever met and you’re meant to love someone you admire, aren’t you? Isn’t that why they call them “admirers”? I don’t know. Maybe. And maybe if I was braver I would. It’s your bad luck to get stuck loving a coward, I guess. Sorry about that. I think I would change it if I could, but it’s not like getting a haircut, you can’t just alter yourself on a whim. Too bad. Because maybe I do love you in a way, just not in the way you want. The sex way. Although I’ve had enough trouble with women, it can’t be worse. Ha ha.

Yours affectionately,

Jimmy

23rd October, 1925

Thomas,

You may have received a letter from me recently. That is an unfortunate error. It was a joke I never meant to send. All of this black-bordered writing paper looks the same. If you haven’t yet received the envelope, postmarked 21st October, please discard it unopened. If you have, I’m sorry. Again, it was a tasteless joke. I have enclosed the letter I intended you to receive.

Jimmy

20th October, 1925

Dear Thomas,

Thank you for your letter, and for your advice about boat travel (I will try and look at the horizon if I feel seasick. I hope that works. I hadn’t considered that problem before. How disgusting and messy!)

Our passage is booked now. We leave on 2nd November. When we arrive, it will be blazing summer. I complained about the heat here, but I’m rather looking forward to it there, especially knowing England will be in the middle of freezing winter! Anyway, I am so keen for an adventure I think I would travel to the centre of the Earth, like Jules Verne. Ha ha.

Bernard is taking me out for a drink tonight to say good-bye. We might not have another chance, he says, as he’s leaving for another job later this week, and he’s going to miss me. I’m not going to miss him. I’m going to miss you, though, which is daft because I haven’t even seen you in eighteen months.

Jimmy

3rd April, 1933

Dear Mr. Barrow,

I am writing to confirm you are the same Mr. Thomas Barrow who once served at Downton Abbey. You may not remember me, but we were colleagues at one time, and I should very much like to get back in touch. You can reach me in Ripon, at the address on the envelope. If I am mistaken, I am sorry to have bothered you.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

James Kent

9th April, 1933

Dear Thomas,

I knew it was you! I ran into Mrs. Bates and her sons in the village and she told me you were working for Lord and Lady Napier, but I wanted to be sure. It’s been so long, I thought you might not want to know me, anyway. I’m so pleased you replied.

First off, I want to apologise for not writing for so long. I made such a mess of things before I left I didn’t know what to say, and by the time I got my head on right again, so much time had passed it seemed worse to write than not. But my head IS right, now. At last.

Australia was wonderful, most of the time, but it wasn’t home. When Lady White-Jameson died, the family offered to pay my passage back to England, and I took it. I’ve only been back a fortnight. Things have changed here and no mistake, but I don’t regret coming back, not for a second. Well, maybe the weather. In any case, I have so much to tell you. I’ve changed, too, Thomas, believe me. But before I get into all that, I want to ask, did you ever find that happiness I wished for you? I know you will understand the question.

Yours,

Jimmy

13th April, 1933

Dear Thomas,

I’m pleased to hear you have had such success with your work. Lord and Lady Napier are lucky to have you as butler. (Edith Napier! That was a shock, I must say. And four children! At least three of them were born on the right side of the blanket.) But I am sad to hear you have not been as lucky in other aspects of life. Well, sad, but at the same time I am not, because it means a door may remain open that I thought may have shut long ago.

There is so much I want to talk about, but I don’t want to write it down. I don’t have the words and, in any case, I’m not that brave yet. I’m braver than I was eight years ago, when I was a boy, but I still have a way to go. Still, I am willing to try, if you are willing to help? Please meet me. Name the time and the place, I’ll be there. I await it eagerly, and I hope we can pick up where we left off. And I don’t mean when I left for Australia, I mean what we should have done before I left Downton. If I hadn’t been such a coward. If you know what I mean.

Yours,

Jimmy

17th April, 1933

Dear T.,

I love you. There it is. I know you know it, I could see it in your eyes tonight, but I wanted to get it out. The words I should have said sooner but couldn’t. I’m not sorry for that, exactly, but I am sorry it took me eight years away to reach the point where I could. And I’m very sorry, but this is going to be my last letter to you. I told you I wasn’t much of a letter writer, so I reckon it will have to be only speaking from now on. In any case, the things I want to say, it’s safer not to have a record of.

It’s not fair, really, but I reckon can live with it if you can.

All my love,

J.


End file.
